Diary of a Forsaken Daughter
by Revolving Window
Summary: The story of a daughter from heavens, her questionable upbringing, and the destiny she ultimately chooses for herself...


_April 22nd, 1210_

My papa is a hero.

That's what everyone in town says, at least. Cube says so too. Papa himself just rolls his eyes and drinks some more. I don't think he likes hearing it.

Today, Papa told me I'm old enough to start working. He even bought me a dolly and this diary to celebrate my birthday. I'm excited. We never have enough money, so I have to do my best to earn it. Besides, Papa said working at an early age helps me to grow up to be a proud hero, just like Papa.

Working at a farm sounds pretty tough, but Cube said it's going to be okay if I get enough time to rest afterwards. They have all kinds of animals at the farm, too, and Papa said the farmer will let me play with them if I do a good job.

* * *

_August 8th, 1210_

I don't think I did a good job. The farmer wouldn't let me play with the animals, either. Mostly he just yelled at me.

Some days went better than others, but after a while I got so tired I couldn't even think straight. Papa made me go back anyway, but I was so angry and tired I didn't get anything done. The farmer shook his fist at me and said I was useless.

I'm home now. The doctor said my health is so bad I will die if I keep working. I'm scared. Papa said we couldn't afford treatment, but he let me stay at home for this month. I have my doll and Cube is looking after me, so it's okay. I wish I could go out and play before summer's over, but Papa said I'm going back to the farm when I'm feeling better. He said that pain only makes people stronger, so maybe it will be okay next time.

* * *

_October 24th, 1210_

Papa made me participate in the combat tournament at the beginning of the month. He said it builds character. I'm not sure what that means, and Papa wouldn't explain it.

I tried. I really, really tried. But my first opponent was three heads taller than me and wearing chainmail. He looked really upset to see he was fighting me, but that didn't stop him from hitting me with his broadsword. The audience jeered at him, but I still lost.

The wound wasn't too deep. I should be getting better soon, and Papa said he already has plans for how to raise me next month. I just hope he hasn't arranged another fight for me.

* * *

_November 1st, 1210_

Papa threw me out. He literally pushed me down a hill in the woods with nothing but my diary with me and told me not to return until the tenth. I tried following the path, but it's turned all muddy after it started to rain, and I lost all sense of direction.

A giant mantis chased after me. It can't see me right now, but I can still hear it nearby, searching for me. Night will fall any minute now. I hope it doesn't see better in the dark.

* * *

_November 2nd, 1210_

Still alive. Still can't see the town. Nearly drowned in quicksand.

Most of the time, I just want to curl up in a ball and stay like that until a wildcat eats me. I just don't care anymore.

* * *

_November 3rd, 1210_

**To anyone who finds this diary:** If you're reading this, I'm dead. Please take my body back to town. And please bury my diary and my doll with me.

* * *

_November 11th, 1210_

I'm alive.

I nearly wasn't, though. I got into a fight with a bat-man, and it flung me against a tree trunk. I broke my ankle and hit my head badly.

I woke up a few hours hour ago, back at home. Cube had found me and brought me back. He said he'd been looking for me since whenever he had spare time since Papa first abandoned me, but I'm not sure he's telling the truth. I'm glad to be home, though. Even hard work is better than the forest. My ankle's still sore, but Papa said it just builds character.

* * *

_December 16th, 1210_

Winter's here. It's freezing cold without warm clothes, but I'll live.

At least I don't have to go on the farm for now. Papa made me help with housework instead, and it's a picnic compared to shifting hay in this weather. Papa said he signed me up for some voluntary work at a church later this month, but at least that too is indoors.

* * *

_April 30th, 1211_

My birthday was last week. I got a nice dolly to go with my old one.

Problem is, I don't have time to play with them. Papa said I'm going to be a lumberjack from now on. I'm a little worried. I have some muscles, but what if I swing the axe and miss and hit someone else? Or what if it flies from my hands and strikes another lumberjack on the back of their head? Or what if I drop it and mangle my feet? I really don't want to go, but Papa said I have no choice: we're out of money again, and if I don't work, we can't afford to eat next month.

* * *

_August 13th, 1211_

We actually have money for once! To celebrate, Papa promised to sign me up for classes this month. I wanted poetry, but he picked fencing. The instructor is a lot like Papa. His breath smells the same, too. Papa said that if I do well in class, he'll buy me a sword before the next time I have to fight monsters. I'm not exactly looking forward to it.

I'm not sure if it would be better to do as he says, or just ignore him and run away. I hate how he always tells me to do this and do that. The next time he tries to make me fight, I'm going to bolt it for sure.

* * *

_October 14th, 1211_

I ran away.

I feel much better now, really. Food is a little tough to come by, but I can buy stuff on Papa's credit if I really need to. Finding places to sleep in is tougher: the autumn's already pretty chilly, and sleeping outside without a tent, while perfectly possible two weeks ago when I first left home, is soon going to be a death wish.

I have to go back once water starts freezing. I'll die otherwise. Hopefully, Papa will be nicer from now on. If nothing else, at least I avoided the combat tournament.

* * *

_Feb 5th, 1212_

Papa threw me out again. This time, he pushed me down a waterfall at the lakes. I only had to wander for a couple of hours looking for a way back up, soaking wet with icy water and shivering, when a kidnapper tried to grab me. I escaped him, only to be bitten by the feral black mermaid. Cube says the wound isn't infected, but it hurts so much I don't even care right now.

I get to rest until next week, but I kinda wish I'd just been left for dead. That way, I could rest forever, and I'd never have to worry about monsters or work ever again. Cube said I shouldn't say things like that, that he'd be sad if I were gone. Papa rolled his eyes and told me he'd buy me cake on my birthday if I "don't be a little bitch" until then.

* * *

_April 22nd, 1212_

I got my cake. It wasn't worth it.

* * *

_May 13th, 1212_

I wish Cube would mind his own business. He followed me into town yesterday and yelled at me when I tried charging my purchases on Papa's account. I earned that money! Why don't I get to spend it the way I want, too? At least he didn't rat me out to Papa, but that's about the only nice thing I have to say about him. You're a creep, Cube!

* * *

_September 20th, 1212_

Papa said there was enough money to let me take classes again. Still no poetry, but I did get to learn magic and science. And fencing. Always with the fencing.

I bet that if Mother was alive, she'd let me pick my own classes. And she wouldn't make me do work where I have to swing an axe, either. I wish she was here.

* * *

_October 30th, 1212_

I lost on the first round of the combat tournament again this year. I don't understand why Papa keeps sending me there. I'm strong for my age, but I can't swing a sword or cast a spell to save my life, and all my opponents are better equipped, too. Maybe it's the same misguided optimism to make a warrior out of me that makes him make me work as a lumberjack and ditch me at the outskirts of the town.

* * *

_March 5th, 1213_

Stuck in the wilderness again. You can guess why. I wonder which one finally has my number, a goblin or a giant bird. Or maybe I will be pulled back from the maw of death in the nick of time once more.

I hear heavy breathing from behind the corner of the ruins, almost like a gigantic snore. I hope it's not coming from a dragon.

_March 5th, 1213_

It was a dragon. My hair got singed. The rest of me didn't, so there's that. But there are more of them.

I think I'm going to die.

* * *

_April 22nd, 1213_

Another birthday. No present this year, Papa said he can't afford one. I think he's just punishing me for losing against that giant bird last month.

* * *

_August 27th, 1213_

There's something seriously wrong with our finances. I calculated that Papa earns roughly 3500G a year, give or take a few hundred. Our monthly rent is only 30G a month, and our food expenses are maybe double or triple that, including the money he sets out every year for my food and birthday gift. That still leaves at least 2000G unaccounted for, and while he may pay Cube something I have no idea where most of that money goes. What does he do with it? Why does he need so much? I wouldn't mind so much otherwise if he didn't take all the money I earn, too. He pays my clothes and lessons from my wages; I don't want to pay for his ridiculous expenses, too. I'm not a work mule!

At least some of the money goes into my schooling nowadays. Fighting and fencing mostly, with a little magic on the side. In autumn, if I win the combat tournament, he said he'll let me take a poetry class. Maybe if I try really hard...

* * *

_October 2nd, 1213_

It was a foolish dream, anyway.

* * *

_Feb 7th, 1214_

Trekking in the wilderness. Again. Papa leaves me here so often nowadays there's almost no point writing about it anymore. It's almost like work or school now, just with monsters and harsh weather.

Last time, I actually made it back home without as much a scratch. The townsfolk seemed rather impressed with me. I just wish that instead of being impressed, they would have concerned that someone had left their thirteen-year-old daughter out in the woods armed with nothing more than a kidney knife. But as always, nobody did anything to help me.

This time, I doubt I'll be lucky enough to make it back by myself: he ditched me at the northern glacier. The hailstorm makes it nearly impossible to navigate the place, and the wolves are ferocious at this time of the year. I'll do my best not to slip off the path, but it's probably only a matter of time.

* * *

_June 26th, 1214_

Papa took me on a vacation this month! Okay, he paid for it with money that came from my wages as usual, and he said he was taking me because I'm fat, but it was still a real holiday! I had a great time swimming in the ocean!

After the vacation, Papa said I was still too fat and made Cube put me on a diet. I don't get it. I can't fit in the new dress he bought me for my birthday, but who can? It's so tiny I doubt it would have fit me even back when I was ten. And now I'm hungry all the time and my vision gets so blurry even working at the bar is difficult.

Sometimes, I really hate Papa.

* * *

_October 8th, 1214_

I'm sick again. Really sick. The doctor said I came this close to actually dying. I'm scared.

I'm feeling a little better now. Cube convinced Papa to change my diet back to normal, but I'm still so sick right now I can barely eat anything anyway.

Papa has been pacing around, muttering about the combat tournament. It sounds like he had bet on how I'd do in it, but now that I couldn't participate, he lost all his money. He keeps giving me dirty looks, and mumbling about how useless I am under his breath. It's not my fault I got ill! I never asked him to gamble! Is that where all the money in this household is going?

* * *

_October 10th, 1414_

I hate him. That is all.

* * *

_December 25th, 1214_

I hate to admit it, but I think I'm starting to get used to adventuring. I have proper equipment now, for one, and enough experience to make do. I run away only from the toughest foes now: all others get to taste my steel.

When I told him about it, Cube said that I should try talking or fleeing instead, that killing tarnishes the soul. What does he know? When you're out there, sometimes there's nothing between life and death but you and your blade. You have to make a decision. Maybe a wuss like him might think dying is better than killing, but I refuse to do that. Dying is losing. Dying is showing my father that I was weak and useless. I will not die until I can prove him otherwise. Hopefully with a single stroke of my sword that sends his head flying.

* * *

_May 2nd, 1215_

Last week, as soon as my birthday celebration was done, my father made me go to work at a sleazy back-alley bar. Can you believe it? Cube tried to talk him out of it, but he yielded like he always does. I already knew I couldn't rely on anyone besides myself, but thanks for the reminder anyway.

I ran away after the first day. The job wasn't actually that bad. I just had to pour drinks to these guys and make small talk with them, all while wearing a dress so tiny it looked more like a towel than a real garment. Easy for not, I didn't feel right doing it. Even if I had, I'm fed up doing what my father tells me to anyway.

I don't even get it. I thought he was trying to raise me as a warrior. That's what he always kept telling me when I was younger. It was his favourite line right after: "everything bad is good for you," and "suffering builds character." How is working as a bar floozy making me better at fighting? The part where you kick unwanted customers in the shin under the table doesn't exactly prepare you for real combat.

* * *

_June 24th, 1215_

The strangest thing happened this morning. I was adventuring on the desert, slaying harpies and minding my own business, and when night fell, decided to set camp right away. Well, it turned out I had fallen asleep right in front of the portal to Hell. A raucous gaggle of demons, led by none other than Lucifon himself, woke me up, and I thought I was going to die just then and there. Rather than kill me, Lucifon offered me a drink, and even threw in an enhancing magic spell if I could chug it all down. He undoubtedly had some ulterior motive to do so, but whatever. He seemed pretty impressed with me when I succeeded, and invited me to come again if I felt like it.

The weirdest thing is, he didn't even rip me off: I genuinely feel a lot healthier now. I might actually take him up on his offer; I had a great time. I better not say anything about this at home, though. I don't know about Father, but Cube would throw a fit.

* * *

_January 4th, 1216_

I saw a shooting star last night. I don't believe in superstitions, but I made a wish anyway. A wish that I could start my life over, in a completely different world if possible.

Everyone I know now just wants to take advantage of me. The tutors only want to get paid. My employers just want some cheap labour. The people at the palace won't give me the time of the day. And Father...let's not even go there.

I may have actually been too harsh towards Cube in the past. I'm almost positive my father pays him diddly squat, but he still does his best to look after me. He doesn't succeed, but at least he genuinely tries, which makes him a damn sight better than everyone else I know. I should try being nicer towards him in the future.

* * *

_March 11th, 1216_

Adventuring often makes me think about just how fleeting life is. Often, a single cut of a blade is enough to end a creature's life, no matter how big or small. I'm starting to think it was a miracle that didn't die long ago, when I was still young and defenceless. Of course, by now my miserable upbringing has made me tough. Now, it's those who've had easy lives who have to watch out.

* * *

_May 24th, 1216_

Father's being a creep again. He made me work at a cabaret nearby. I didn't have to dance, but that's where the pros end and the cons begin.

I honestly don't get why he does this. Does he want me to suffer? Half the time, he treats raising me like it's some kind of a game, like he's made a bet with some drunkard friend of his that he can mess me up worse than Lucifon could. Well, I've just about had it with him. I'm not a bleeding toy!

* * *

_July 14th, 1216_

I dispatched of a wanted criminal! I got commended by the crown! I'm famous!

...Or that least, that's what I'd like to say. I did in fact defeat a wanted criminal, a bandit called Venerazo who I found lurking around in the woods. And I did get commended by the crown, along with a hefty reward for freeing the land from the menace. And I suppose people talked about me...but most of them were saying stuff like "Truly, she's the daughter of a great hero," and "the apple doesn't fall far from the tree." I'm nothing like my father, and he's got nothing to do with this! Stop bringing him up!

I'm so fed with this place and these ninnies. Trust me when I say that some day I'll leave this kingdom behind me and carve out my own destiny. Father and his achievements will be left in dust once I get going. I swear that by the stars themselves.

* * *

_October 1st, 1216_

I won the combat tournament! I did! It came close, since my health still hasn't fully recovered from my illness two years ago, but win I did! I'll never get tired of saying that. The prize sword is only useful as a butter knife, but the money and applause more than make up for that.

I've gotten quite the reputation now, but I know that if I ever want to get out of my father's shadow, I will have to leave this town and find my own place somewhere else. I can hardly wait.

* * *

_January 3rd, 1217_

I enrolled myself on some poetry classes with the money I won from the combat tournament. It was...okay. I guess I'm just not as into arts and literature as I was when I was younger. Half the time in class I was looking out of the window, waiting to venture back into the wilderness. I guess it didn't hurt to at least try to "cultivate my mind" or whatever it was that the teacher said.

I spent the rest of the money on magic lessons. I'm confident in my sword-fighting skills, but learning more about the arcane arts couldn't hurt.

Last week, Father tried to force me back to the cabaret. I ran into the woods and stayed there for the remainder of the year. Serves him right. I'm back for now, but I told him that if he ever again tries to force me into doing degrading work, I'm leaving and never coming back.

* * *

_April 22nd, 1217_

I only just noticed that today's my birthday. Doesn't matter. I'm still not going home.

I've been wandering in the wilderness for the last two months, living off the land. It's been child's play compared to what my real childhood was like. If I get hungry, I hunt; if I need money, I kill monsters. If I'm out of luck with both, I order Cube to fetch me something nice from the town.

He has shown up every couple of days since the day I first ran off, first to plead with me to return home, then, after he realised how pointless it was, just to make sure I'm alright. He needn't bother; I'm doing fantastically on my own. Still, I'm glad he does it. He's just about the only thing I miss about living at home.

Right now, I'm saving up money for my own place in the town. Maybe I could start a rivalling fencing school and see how Leftor likes a little pressure. Or maybe I'll just keep hunting monsters and live off the spoils. Cube seems worried, but it's not like he can stop me. I told him that once I get my own place, he could come live with me if he wanted to get away from my father. He didn't get it. He did get it when I grabbed him by the collar and repeated it as an order.

I don't think he's very good at decision-making, the poor guy. Guess I'll just have to make them for him.

Honestly though, even if I'm unable to hoard enough cash, I'm just glad to be here. Of all the things I've experienced in my life, just about the only thing that makes me truly happy is the heat of combat and watching my enemies fall. It's exhilarating, and I'd probably keep doing it even if monsters didn't carry loot.

Summer's coming soon. I might actually go back once winter arrives: I want to finish my expert classes in magic before I turn eighteen. That is, I'll return home if I can make it clear to my father I won't take any of his bullcrap. After that, the world is my oyster.

* * *

_July 3rd, 1217_

I cannot put to words what I'm feeling right now, so I'm making some notes for later. It's probably pointless, since I doubt I'll ever forget, but...

God of War.

Heaven.

My home.

My life.

_Why?_

* * *

_April 1st, 1218_

Father was almost tolerable this time around. Almost. I still felt like setting his head on fire every time he spoke to me, but at least he left me mostly to my own devices.

Cube was so upset when I headed out again. He honestly thought me and my father had made up and would live as a happy family from now on. What a joke. I still return to bunk there when the weather's bad, but that's about it.

Truth to be told...after all this time, I've started to think that maybe, it's not my father who is to blame. Don't get me wrong, he's a rat bastard scumbag that deserves everything he gets, but if the Prince of Darkness had been up to the task, he wouldn't even be alive right now. None of these assholes would. Honestly, I think Lucifon's getting old. The last time I went drinking with the demons, he told he had once been human, but that it was so long ago he can't actually remember anything beyond hazy details. And the skin around his eyes gets wrinkly in the morning. How old does a demon have to be until that happens? And this is the guy my father couldn't kill?

But it's not him, either, is it? It's the gods who allow the decrepit old sod to remain in his post, just because no-one has killed him yet. They're the ones responsible for my misery.

I already know they're not going to do anything about it, either. You should never rely on other people, and you should never, ever rely on gods. If anything, demons have proven themselves the most reliable of the three races, and they too failed me by losing to my father.

Well, no-one else is going to do it for me. I'll just have to do it myself. I will make certain no child in this country will ever have to go through the same ordeal as I did.

* * *

_Dear Father,_

_I'd ask you how you are, but I already the condition in which you receive this letter._

_I want to tell you right out that there's no point in trying to reply to this: I won't accept anything sent by you. Knowing you, that shouldn't be a problem._

_I've been fine. Better than fine, truth be told. In fact, I don't think I've ever been this happy in my life. Sometimes, it gets a little dull in the Underworld, but most nights are all the rage. At least I will never have to worry about going hungry or getting sick ever again._

_Anyway, here I am, after having succeeded where you failed at. Are you proud of me?_

_It doesn't matter, really. I am proud of myself. I carved out my own path, even when it seemed the entire world was against me. It may not be the most conventional path, but it's perfect for me. I feel like I was destined to become who I am, sometimes._

_Cube comes to visit me every once in a while. Given the way he sighs and gives me sad looks he still hasn't gotten used to the idea of me being the Princess of Darkness. He'll learn. I know he's bound to you until the day you die, but treat him poorly and that day will arrive much sooner. I take good care of my subjects._

_Anyway, he told me you're still the same as ever, save for a light cold. You'd better recuperate from it soon. An illness is no way for a legendary hero to go._

_That's about it, Father, apart from one last thing._

_Thank you, Father, for the wonderful upbringing you gave me. Without you, I would never be where I am now._

_And rest assured that when the time comes, when the gods decree that humankind has once again grown too proud, and I am ordered to sent my armies to slaughter my former kin, we will meet again. And when we do, I will be sure to thank you in person for all you've done for me. In the most fitting way I can conceive._

_Until then,_

_Your Daughter_

_X_


End file.
